


Nineteen Minutes

by jedisapphire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 00:57:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1878954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedisapphire/pseuds/jedisapphire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah Winchester is a woman of her word. Sam has nineteen minutes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nineteen Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine, and my apologies to Sarah Winchester, who I'm sure never hurt anyone.
> 
> Author's Note: SandyDee84 told me she wanted birthday fic about the Winchester Mystery House, and I asked her a lot of questions that probably made it seem like it was going to be a suspenseful, well-thought-out casefic with things like plot and story arc.
> 
> And then this happened.
> 
> Also, I'm very very late, but happy birthday. :)
> 
> Many thanks to Cheryl, who encouraged and spotted typos and was generally awesome.
> 
> Spoilers: Very vague spoilers up to about the middle of S7.

_And, did I need that thou shouldst taunt_  
My dying hour at last,  
By bidding this worn spirit pant  
No more for what is past?

_(Charlotte Brontë)_

My name is Sarah Winchester.

Maybe you've heard of me.

They call me insane. I'm not, you know. I'm as sane as anybody. I'm as sane as  _you_.

Was it my fault the ghosts hounded me? I didn't invent the gun. I didn't kill anyone. All I did was fall in love with the son of the man who sold the Winchester rifle.

William always told me the ghosts were after him. I never believed him. I'm sorry about that now. I wish I'd believe him.

I wish someone would believe me.

It's been nearly a hundred and thirty years, and still they don't let me rest.

Oh, yes, maybe I should have said this in the beginning. I'm a ghost, too. Don't be scared. I don't want to hurt anyone. All I want is to rest in peace, to be able to move on, to see Will again.

Oh, Sam. Sammy. Can I call you Sammy? No? Sam, then. I promise you don't have to be afraid of me. I'm not vengeful.

I need your brother's help, that's all.

I wish I could have had it some other way. I don't like hurting people. I'm sorry I had to do that to you, really I am. I didn't expect there would be so much blood. It was just a little marble bust, and I didn't even hit you very hard.

I forgot how fragile humans are.

But don't worry. You won't die. Not from blood loss.

I know you're running out of air, but you don't have to worry about that either. You'll be fine. Well, as long as your brother manages to find what I want in the next… half an hour? Oh, no, you only have nineteen minutes now.

I'm sorry. I hope you don't die. I don't want anybody to die.

Will you promise not to haunt me if you die?

Are you even  _listening_ to me?

You  _have_ to listen to me. I have to tell you everything. I don't want you to think I did this without a  _reason._

The ghosts haunted me for almost forty years while I was alive. You're young, you couldn't possibly know what it's like to have someone  _hound_ you so you can't eat, you can't sleep, you can't –

Oh, you do know? How?

Lucifer? Poor boy, I think you're hallucinating. It must be the lack of oxygen. Lucifer isn't real.

I'm real. I wish I weren't. I was a good person. I don't know why they didn't let me move on.

The house is full of ghosts. I expect you know that. I saw you and your brother, with the salt canisters and the flasks of holy water. I realized right away you were ghost hunters.

Did you come here for the others? Or did you come here for me?

You can tell the truth, I won't be cross. I  _do_ want to move on. But you and your brother were looking in all the wrong places. You would never have found it. You're not the first hunters to come here.

Nobody ever finds it.

That's my fault, I suppose.

I don't know where it is, either.

I asked Gordie to hide it. I don't suppose you've ever met Gordie. He must be very old by now, if he's even still alive.

He was a young man when I realized I didn't have much longer to live. I called him and gave it to him, and I told him to hide it somewhere in the House and I made him promise never to tell anyone where it was. I thought that would confine them here.

I should have had it destroyed, but I couldn't bear to. Will made me promise.

He said the gun could kill anything. That gun. He was working with some other man called Jeff. Or Joseph, maybe. I don't know. He was part of some strange occult group – I always thought he was a little insane. He and Will worked on that gun together. I don't know what they did to it, but they said it could kill  _anything_.

Anything. And then Jeff, or Joseph, or maybe his name was Jeremy, said this would be even better than the Colt.

You look like you know what he meant.

I would ask you, but I don't think you should waste your oxygen. You have so little of it left.

You really mustn't haunt me if your brother can't find it in time. Promise me.

No, don't fall asleep. You mustn't sleep. I don't want to be alone here. The others might come. They frighten me. They won't come if you're awake. You're a ghost hunter.

So much blood. How is it still bleeding? I really didn't hit you that hard.

Poor Sam. You look scared. I told you not to be scared of me.

 _No._  Eyes open.

Sixteen minutes.

You have sixteen minutes of air left.

I  _do_ know that exactly. Not because of the seal on the door. I think the room has at least another two hours of air for you. I know it's getting thin, but you won't actually die for two hours.

At least.

Old man Andrews lasted a full day. You've only been here fourteen hours. But he was smaller than you. Maybe he needed less air.

Poor Mr. Andrews. I don't know how he got stuck in here. It must have been one of the others. I had to pay his widow twenty thousand dollars to keep quiet about it.

People are so mercenary.

But the thing is, Sam, I told your brother your oxygen would run out at midnight. And I'm a woman of my word. So I'll just have to stop your air myself. If your brother doesn't have it for me by midnight.

I don't like strangling people. So uncivilized. But I promised.

It's important for you to know this. I don't want you to think I'm unreasonable.

No hunter has ever been able to find it, and the only way to make the others go is to burn it. Do you understand, Sam?

You and your brother would have kept it, once you realized what it could do.

Sam? Are you even listening to me? You  _have_ to listen to me. This is  _important_. You and your brother would have kept it. I couldn't risk that.

I  _must_ have peace.

They  _have_ to go.

So I had to take you, you see. It was the only way to guarantee your brother's cooperation.

Will was a businessman. I learnt things from him. You're my leverage.

Fourteen minutes.

Poor Sam. It looks like your brother won't be in time.

Or maybe he's decided not to destroy the rifle. I thought he cared about you more than that, but there was the girl. Clare? She's a hunter as well. She's been flirting with your brother. Shameless hussy.

I would never have dreamed of wearing a shirt like that and then bending over so a man could see my –

Well.

She wants the rifle.

We might both lose, Sam. I'm sorry.

He must have found it by now. I suppose the hussy persuaded him to let her have it.

Fourt –

No. Thirteen minutes.

Do you like my pocket watch, Sam? It was Will's. After Mr. Andrews died I had it put here, so if anyone else got stuck in this closet they'd know how much time they had left.

It's never run down since the day I put it here.

I used to check it every morning.

I've never put anyone in this closet to die, though. Not when I was alive.

Not after I died.

No, really. That's true.

I… I promise.

I know  _you're_ here, but I didn't put you here to die. I put you here to wait. If you  _do_ die here, it's just coincidence. And the hussy's fault.

You're still bleeding. Can you stop it? I promised. You have to stay alive another…

Twelve minutes.

I told your brother your air would run out.

I suppose he cares more about the hussy's bosom than about…

Oh, Sam, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.

I've been watching you all day. You. Your brother. The hussy. The hussy doesn't like you. She wanted your brother's attention, but he was worried about you. You could sense me, couldn't you? You've been sensing me since you came in.

Or maybe you've been sensing the others.

Did you see any of them?

Little Bucky? The lady in green? The man with the striped waistcoat?

I've been seeing them for over a hundred years, Sam. They don't let me rest. It isn't fair! I didn't kill them! I didn't make the gun! All I did was love Will.

Oh, Sam, I wish I'd never met him.

I loved Will, and I promised to keep the gun safe, and for his sake I did.

If I'd known…

I could go check on your brother and the hussy, maybe remind him he's supposed to be saving you. But then I'd have to leave you alone. I don't want you to be alone.

It's dark. You might be scared.

Stay awake, Sam.

I wish I could keep you alive. Do you know, this is the first time in at least twenty years I haven't had little Bucky dogging my heels? He's staying away from you.

If I could keep you alive, keep you here…

You can't open this door from the inside. We learnt  _that_ the hard way. Poor Mr. Andrews.

I could keep you here. I could sit here with you, always. I'd never have to see little Bucky.

But I promised.

You should think of happy things, Sam. You're going to die soon. Enjoy the time you have left. Why don't you think of happy things for a couple of minutes, while I go check on your brother?

Don't worry. I won't hurt him.

Think of happy things.

* * *

I'm so sorry, Sam. That took longer than I thought. And now you only have six minutes.

I had some trouble finding them. Little Bucky started following me as soon as I stepped out of this place. With the girl with pigtails.

I was surprised to see her. I don't see her much. She tried to talk to me.

I think she wanted me to let you go.

But how can I? I promised. I tried to explain it to her. Foolish child. Her parents don't seem to have taught her right from wrong. No wonder the world is such a terrible place.

Sam, you have to stay awake. Look at me.  _Look at me._ Look at me, Sam, or I'll get your brother and put him in here to suffocate with you.

There. I knew you could be reasonable.

The hussy found the rifle. She's trying to talk your brother out of destroying it. She thinks it's worth more than one life. The needs of the many, she said. I suppose that's one way of looking at it.

Your brother doesn't think so. But he's not the one who has the rifle.

I'm not quite sure what the hussy wanted with it. Someone killed her husband, or possibly she killed her husband, or possibly her husband killed someone else. I don't know. It's so difficult to pay attention sometimes.

But she thinks a weapon is more important than you.

That's so sad for you.

So much blood. It seems such a shame to waste it. I wish I were corporeal. I could use it to write something. Maybe a warning on the wall, so nobody else gets shut in here by accident.

If only someone had thought of that before poor Mr. Andrews died.

Do you want to write a message? No?

What about a message for Dean?

Oh, very well. Have it your way. So your brother's going to find your body without even a goodbye.

I wish I could tell you to keep your hopes up, Sam, but your time's almost up. Four minutes. And I don't think Dean's going to be able to get the rifle from the hussy.

Think of happy things. I want you to die smiling.

And promise you won't haunt me.

I'm not cruel, Sam. I'll let Dean have your body. It's important. Then he'll know I kept my promise. I told him you wouldn't die of your wound, but your air would run out at midnight.

What's the matter? Don't you like me touching you? You're a shy little boy, Sam.

That's so cute.

But you have to get used to it. I'm going to have to strangle you. I just thought I'd let you get used to me touching you first. I don't want you to be uncomfortable when you die. I'm not a monster.

I'm a woman of my –

_Bucky!_

Oh, Sam. Little Bucky's here. Do you see him?

Of course you see him. But he's not looking at you. He's looking at me. Why is he looking at me?

I can't stand it, Sam! He's looking at me like I'm a murderer. I'm not a murderer. I just wanted peace! I'm sorry I have to kill you, but I have to keep my promise. You see that, don't you?

Oh, Sam, they never let me rest! For a hundred and thirty years they haven't let me rest! And even if the hussy takes the rifle away, they're bound to the house.

You won't haunt me, will you, Sam? You'll stay with me and protect me from them.

So much blood.

How is there so much blood?

It's  _on_ me.

Look at me.

Look at me and tell me you see me.

Good.

Bucky's gone. Thank God.

You know, Sam, sometimes I wish Lucifer were real. Then I'd have someone to blame for this.

Stop  _bleeding_ , Sam! Don't you see? That's what I've had to endure all my life. The ghosts and their gunshot wounds and all the blood, the blood everywhere.

I built all those rooms. Every time a room filled with blood I built a new one. I still couldn't keep ahead of them.

And now you. I can't let you die of your wound. I  _won't_. If you die of your wound then there'll be blood when you're a ghost, and I can't take more blood. I'm going to strangle you, and then all I'll have to see will be the marks of my fingers on your throat.

Just…  _there_.

Don't flinch, Sam. You still have two minutes. I'm just trying to figure it out. Will was a businessman. He believed in efficiency. So do I.

But I've never strangled anyone before.

Will always said you should be open to new experiences.

I'm so glad you don't have the strength to scream, Sam. I do so detest loud noises. And I don't want to have to hear echoes of you screaming for the rest of time.

Sam, I'm so disappointed in your brother. I thought he'd be the one to free me. I even took you to give him an incentive. But it wasn't enough. He let the hussy get the drop on him. Now you have to die. It's such a tragic waste.

Do you have any last requests? A cigar? Maybe I could sing a little song for you?

You want your brother? Sam, now you're being unreasonable. You know I can't bring him. He'd try to save you, and you have to die. I have to keep my promise.

One minute, Sam.

Oh, there's a good boy. Not even struggling. Look at me, Sam. I don't want you to feel alone when you die. You can look at me, it's all right.

_Look at me._

That's it.

Your last few breaths. Shall we count them out together? Breathe for me, in and out. That's it.

No, no, too fast. Breathe slowly, Sam, normally.

You're terrified. Poor Sam. Your heart's going too fast. You don't have to be scared. It won't hurt. I'll make it as quick as I can. You won't feel –

No. I won't lie. You will feel it.

But not for long.

You should pray now, Sam if you believe in God. Do you?

Look at the watch. It hasn't wound down. In all these decades it hasn't wound down or stopped or slowed.

Such a good watch.

All right. It's time. Ten seconds now.

Oh. I think that's Dean trying to break down the door. Foolish boy. It's too late.

Five seconds.

Look at me.

Four.

Breathe.

Three.

Two.

One.

* * *

The door went down with a crash. Dean stumbled through, mouth opening in a scream when he saw Sam lying still in a pool of blood.

"No! No no no no no!"

The insane woman's ghost was shrieking something but Dean ignored her. More spirits were flooding into the room behind him, spirits of the victims of Winchester rifles. They'd promised to keep the lunatic occupied while he got Sam out.

They'd made him promise something in return, but that hadn't been a hardship. It was something Dean had been planning to do anyway.

He dropped to his knees by his brother. He didn't know if it was a good idea to move Sam, but he didn't have much of a choice. He'd broken the door, but in this crazy house who knew if it would stay broken.

He grabbed Sam under the arms, hauling him out into the corridor.

"Sam!"

Sluggish pulse. Shallow, weak breathing.

Had he been in time?

"Sammy, please. Come on."

Oh, God, so much  _blood_.

"Come on, Sammy. Wake up for me. Please, Sammy."

Sam stirred, hazel eyes opening to slits.

"Dean?"

Dean almost sobbed with relief.

"Yeah. I'm here. I'm so sorry, Sam, I was almost too late. If you'd died because of that stupid bitch…"

"Sarah Winchester?"

"No. Clare. Wanted the rifle to kill something or other that came after her husband. Pistol-whipped me and took it – oh, I'm fine, it's you I'm worried about. Come on, kiddo. Let's get you out of here."

Dean helped Sam sit up, waiting until his brother was supported against his chest before looking up at little Bucky, a ghost who had reminded him horribly of Sam as a child, conjuring up terrible visions of what might have happened if any of the things their Dad had hunted had ever managed to get at his brother.

"We're going to patch you up, Sammy," Dean said. "Then we're going to hunt Clare Humphries down, take the rifle from her, and burn it. And if she argues we're going to stab her."

Bucky smiled at him.

Sam's fingers closed around a handful of his shirt.

Dean smiled back at Bucky, murmured comforting nonsense to Sam, and thought happily about stabbing Clare Humphries while he waited for Sam to gather enough strength to try to get to his feet.

**THE END**


End file.
